A Glorious Journey's Start
by Falcongod
Summary: Set in a world where the masses don't flock to the labyrinth in search of glory but rather as a last resort, this is a brief story of a young farmer's arrival to Armoroad, her journey into the labyrinth, and the doom which befalls her therein.


The sweet scent of profit… is that how they term it? How they explain away the endless parade of deaths? It's not profit which drives me to throw my life to the winds and labor under conditions of such peril. If there were any farmland… Even a factory job, I'd prefer over this, but a servant I will never be. It was nothing. Nothing lured me, or anyone else, here. Could we imagine something more, dream dreams of our own, our fantasies would not take on the shape of this labyrinth. No wonder this Napier relies on gallows humor, she who sees the lion's share of those who line their coffers. The customer is god. By rule, the customer must die. I must participate, we all must.

Weapons, armor, and tools. I buy a pitchfork for 60en. A straw hat and bark gloves for 90en. Ten medicas for 200en. I have 150en left. Napier leaves me with a piece of advice. She tells me that all things depend upon money, that finances shall dictate whether I master the labyrinth or die penniless. I thank her and leave quickly. There is something about Napier which strikes me as unearthly. I can tell not what she controls and what controls her. It's as if she's privy to some conspiracy which she keeps all to herself. Feigning subservience to the capital forces bombarding her but in truth serving no master. I shall not forget this girl.

I enter the Butterfly Bistro, exchanging only pleasantries with Missy before leaving. I head toward parliament where I am quickly marked as an outsider. She who wields the Senatus' authority hints to me of how those who succumb to the trial labyrinth are viewed by the state. As cowards, no doubt deserving of their ends in the eyes of the government. None may traverse the labyrinth without also entering into contract with the Senatus. All excursions are officially the business of the state, so she informs me. I accept. A few more consequences for which I must take responsibility. I preform acceptably for her, and put on a gracious smile when she hands me the parchment.

Though its history is soaked in blood, the forest is surprisingly beautiful. Hauntingly so. Replete with pink blossoms and the cleanest greens and blues, it is as if I enjoin it for no more than a nature walk. Yet, there is a presence here. Not just the monsters, but the labyrinth itself is too finely cut to be of natural creation. Is it just this well-trodden landing which bears the memory of intelligent creation? Or does this presence permeate it through and through?

I skirt past a guard, though he still notes me and tries to make casual conversation. Nonetheless, I keep moving. Two fanged fish leap out at me, piercing at my ankles as I successfully escape them. My wounds are heavy, but not fatal. I bandage them quickly and continue my journey. Already, the efforts are straining me. Next, I come upon two Deadly Durians. At first, I move to escape, but the softness of their blows gives me confidence so I turn the struggle against them. The battle takes about two minutes and exhausts half of my supplies. My limbs are bloody and raw at the end of it, but I come up victorious. From the spoils of the fight I retrieve two green thorns which I think to sell at Napier's Branch. Though I am now exhausted, I move forward to find a hidden passage back to the city. I make note of it on my map and turn north where I find a treasure box containing life giving nectar. A gift from the Senatus to green explorers perhaps? I take it gratefully and head back to town to rest. A little victory for today, and the opportunity to survive.

Selling the green thorns to Napier, she deftly constructs from them a Makiri. I sell my dagger to bring the total to 20en then turn around and spend the rest of my money to obtain it. Napier looks at the condition of my body in a form of what might be called pity and tells me that I no longer will have enough money to treat my wounds. That is fine, I can bandage myself once more. I am tired, but I can return once more to the labyrinth before I collapse. I will harvest just enough such that I may afford a room for the night, as I know well what the soldiers do to a young tramp sleeping in the streets. So I say to her. She smiles and meets my words with an affirmative gesture. Her movements, her demeanor, they both suggest to me that her concern is genuine. As I am walking out the door she intimates that I ought to take the utmost care.

My second excursion into the labyrinth is marked by an eerie silence in the forest. A sign cautions me that not all roads in the labyrinth lead ahead. I note its wisdom and turn around only to get ambushed by a group of frogs which cut off my escape. Such is the fate of the lone farmer. Alienated from her brothers and sisters, laughed out of the explorer guilds, and destituted from the land of her home country. I draw my puny weapon and prepare to die. I think of the guard posted nearby. Surely he cannot be too far away from my struggle. I call out to him. To anyone. But it seems my cries go unheard within the great expanse of the labyrinth.

The frogs lunge at me, each in turn. The first I am able to track and avoid as it whizzes by me. The second, however, catches me square in the torso and crushes my tiny body like clay. Red explodes over the forest floor, and as I lay prone I can scarcely believe how much of it there is. My body screams in frenzy, my limbs hang about useless on the ground, and each panicked breath feels like torture. I sight the first frog coming in for a follow up attack, and await my quickly approaching end. Of all that might have come flashing though my mind, I am ashamed that it is only this; that I've not a cent to my name and won't have any stone to mark my sleep.


End file.
